


A Visit To The Doctor

by Dragon_MoonX



Series: Safe In Your Arms [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Gen, Historical Accuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 10:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20637608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/pseuds/Dragon_MoonX
Summary: The struggle is not about overcoming illness. It's about surviving a mother who simply doesn't care. Fortunately, Credence's grandmother has arrived to care for him, making him comfortable during the long road to recovery.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is historically accurate in terms of what was taking place in New York during the early 1900s, when adenoidectomies were frequently performed without anesthesia on dozens of school aged children. An article published in the Journal of American Culture goes into greater detail about the "adenoid riots" which took place during 1906 in New York's Lower East side, following reports that children were supposedly being harmed and even murdered at local schools. Which means that if Credence were a real person, there's a strong possibility that he would have witnessed the goings on and possibly been a part of it somehow.
> 
> If you're interested in reading the article that inspired this story you can find it here - https://nyamcenterforhistory.org/2015/03/10/adenoids-and-american-school-hygiene-in-the-early-20th-century/
> 
> The article specifically states, "While it was typical to do these surgeries quickly and without anesthesia or after care, these operations were done at an exceedingly rapid pace. From various accounts, children left the schools bleeding profusely."

Mary Lou's mother was the first to notice that something was wrong. She observed the eldest of the two children, his lips slightly parted, snuffling and sniffling like he was suffering from a cold, and immediately began to wonder if her daughter had noticed his discomfort.

As she watched, the eight-year old climbed onto a step stool, carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the sink. And although he tried to lower them slowly and carefully into the sink, his hands were shaking so badly that the dishes slid from his grasp, showering the kitchen counter in a wave of soapy water.

"Credence!" Mary Lou's response was quick, the child cowering in fear at the sound of his mother's voice. Her head turned, eyeing the dirty dishwater that had spilled onto the floor. "Look at this mess! Honestly, Credence. I give you the simplest of tasks and you can't even do that right."

"Leave the boy alone," her mother snapped, intervening just as Mary Lou had risen from her seat. She nodded in Credence's direction, her tone gentle as she spoke. "Look at him, Mary Lou. Isn't it obvious that something is troubling him?"

Her daughter's hand, already curled around Credence's wrist, tightened, ready to yank the poor child off the step stool.

"Troubling him?" echoed Mary Lou, glaring at her mother from across the room. "This child has been having problems since the day he came home!"

"And you never wondered why or thought to remedy the situation?"

By now Credence had curled in on himself, blackened tendrils rising up and curling around his chest. He could feel them weaving through his ribcage, coiling around his lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

His baby sister began to cry, and he slumped against the counter, twitching and staring at the floor. The next thing he knew Mary Lou had him by the shoulders, shaking him and calling his name. His grandmother was yelling too, demanding that she unhand the child, and all the while Chastity continued to hiccup and sob.

Mary Lou's mother pushed her chair out, looking from Credence to Chastity and back again. She then leaned over and lifted the baby from her highchair. "It's no wonder the boy never received proper care if this is the way you run your household," she said, cradling the infant against her chest.

Credence groaned and shook his head, the blackness retreating, allowing him to breathe once more. He placed a tiny hand against his chest, gasping and looking up at his grandmother as she came around the table.

Mary Lou took a step back, her fists clenched at her sides. There was nothing she hated more than her mother interfering with the way she raised her children. "And what do you suppose is wrong with him?" she asked, forcing herself to remain calm. "I've thought for a number of years that the child is possessed, perhaps something demonic or maybe even a - "

"Nonsense!" her mother said sharply, cutting her off in midsentence. "Look at him, Mary Lou. He's breathing through his mouth and can hardly catch his breath. And it doesn't appear as though he's capable of paying attention for long periods of time."

Mary Lou visibly relaxed, tilting her head and giving her mother a curious expression.

"You read the papers, don't you, my dear?" asked Mary Lou's mother, pausing to adjust her hold on the squirming infant. "You read about the riots that took place three years ago, correct?"

Indeed, Mary Lou had read the papers and listened to the stories on the radio. She recalled how dozens of children had been taken in for surgery, the operations performed on site at the schools in New York's Lower East Side. But Credence, having been given a private education at home in his mother's church, was never exposed to such things.

She remembered how such practices had been encouraged, offering a solution for children who were considered disobedient, restless and who often had difficulty paying attention in class. It was also recommended for children who suffered from headaches and sleeping problems. Credence experienced all of this on a regular basis, and was often seen dozing off in church.

"Ma?" Credence's voice broke her train of thought. He was leaning with one hand against the counter, his breathing steady though not without a bit of effort. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," Mary Lou replied. "But we're going to the doctor this afternoon. He needs to have a look at your nose and throat."

"Why?" squeaked Credence, now trembling from head to toe. "What's wrong with my nose and throat?"

"Nothing much." Mary Lou brushed aside his question as though it meant nothing. "But I think you've got adenoids. Best to have the doctor take a look before it becomes a problem."

.oOo.

Mary Lou left Chastity in the care of her mother, bidding them farewell as she took Credence by the hand and led him out the door. Together they began the long walk to the doctor's office, the boy tentatively following, wondering why his mother insisted on taking him to the doctor.

He'd been thinking that something was wrong for quite some time now, all those nights he'd spent lying awake in bed, his fingers digging into his chest, wishing he could tear this creature from his flesh. The experience was truly terrifying for someone as young as Credence, and yet he'd never been able to discuss it with his mother. Not unless he wanted another senseless beating for having the nerve to talk about his problems.

It was a sorry state of affairs when a child feared his mother more than the monster he'd become. Even now, though she said she would take him somewhere he could receive proper care and attention, he doubted that she was telling the truth.

"We're here, Credence." These words were followed by a faint jingling, the bells dangling from the wall over the doorway announcing their arrival.

Credence lifted his head, glancing nervously around the room. There was a chair in the doctor's office, its padded cushions covered in rich black leather. It looked similar to the type of chair one would normally see at the dentist, and before he knew what was happening, his mother had slid her hands under his arms, lifting him into the chair.

The small child cowered in his seat, wearing the wide-eyed expression of a deer caught in the headlights. The doctor appeared at his side, wearing a round mirror strapped to his forehead, his white coat pressed and clean.

"Ah, miss Barebone," the doctor said, smiling pleasantly as he addressed Credence's mother. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Everything," Mary Lou began, her tone thoroughly exasperated. "My son breathes through his mouth like some uncultured swine. He's constantly falling asleep in church, though he has difficulty sleeping at night. And he has trouble focusing on and completing simple tasks."

"I see." The doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Anything else? Any earaches, sinus infections, that sort of thing?"

"No, nothing like that. But he often runs a fever and has trouble putting on weight, though I can't imagine why. I feed him plenty of healthy meals, lots of pea soup so it's not as though he's malnourished."

"Alright then." The doctor turned and looked at the boy, noting his gaunt appearance and scrawny build. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

He reached for a tongue depressor on the tray beside the chair, picking it up and instructing the child to open his mouth. Credence hesitated, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

"Come on now. I'm not going to hurt you."

As if Credence trusted him enough to believe that was true. Practically everyone he'd ever known had hurt him in some way. Why would this man be any different?

A shiver traced its way along Credence's spine, his mouth opening as blackened wisps of smoke slid past his lips. He knew what was happening, knew but was unable to stop himself, the ghostly tendrils spiraling before his eyes then quickly vanishing into thin air.

The doctor must have seen this fragment of smoke, his jaw dropping momentarily, blinking and staring at the peculiar child. Mary Lou, who was standing off to the side with her arms folded across her chest, only saw the doctor's reaction to this bizarre anomaly.

"What is it?" she asked. "What do you see?"

"I'm not sure," the doctor said slowly. He reached up and switched on the overhead light, then removed one of the tools from the tray. This gleaming metal instrument disappeared into Credence's mouth, the mirror on the end giving him a better look at the patient's throat.

The doctor leaned in for a closer look, a minute passing before he laid the instruments on the tray and took Mary Lou by the wrist, leading her away from the chair.

Credence heard nothing of their whispered conversation, his mother's expression grim, nodding and glancing in her son's direction. When the doctor returned, he summoned his nurse and moved towards the sink, filling an aluminum cup with water and placing it over a gas flame.

There was a soft plink of metal against metal, the doctor taking one of his surgical tools and dropping it in the aluminum cup as the water began to boil. The tool he'd selected was roughly the length of a pencil, similar in size and thickness with a curved blade on one end.

Credence was still, watching the steam coming off the bubbling liquid. He started slightly when the nurse entered his field of vision, seeing her move towards him with an apron in her hands.

"It's alright, dear," said the nurse, bending over and draping the red rubber apron over his chest. "Lean forward, please." Credence complied with her request, allowing her to tie the apron straps behind his neck.

The boy shrank back in his chair, his gaze lingering on the white enamel bowl the nurse thrust under his chin. "What are you going to do?" he croaked hoarsely, barely able to find his voice.

"Now don't you worry," the doctor soothed, removing his chosen instrument from the boiling water. "This won't take two seconds. Just open your mouth and it'll be over before you know it."

The boy refused, inhaling sharply and pressing his lips together.

"Credence," said Mary Lou, her tone harsh, demanding his attention. She approached the chair, her body radiating a deadly aura. "You do as he says, young man. Or mark my words there will be consequences."

A low whimper cut through the silence. Credence was terrified, his heart beating a fierce tempo against his ribs. He could feel the Obscurus closing around his lungs, suffocating him with its vicelike grip.

Against his better judgement, Credence opened his mouth, the little boy gasping for breath. The doctor leaned over him, taking advantage of the boy's need for oxygen. The blade glinted in the florescent lights before being inserted into Credence's throat, and the hand that held the blade give four or five quick twists, slicing out a section of tissue above the roof of his mouth.

Credence uttered a low, gurgling groan, blood pouring from his mouth and spilling into the bowl under his chin. He tried to scream, but was nearly choking on the scarlet fluid that was cascading down the back of his throat.

He pitched forward suddenly, the entire roof of his mouth on fire with tremendous pain. The nurse gave him several thumps on the back, and Credence retched, filling the bowl with blood and shredded lumps of flesh.

"Spit everything out," the nurse was saying, but her voice barely registered in his mind. "That's a good boy. You'll be alright in a minute."

"Wh-what?" Credence managed between harsh, wheezing gasps. Without thinking, he seized his mother's hand and held on tight, only to have it torn from his grasp as Mary Lou stepped away from her son.

"Those were your adenoids," the doctor stated calmly, as though he were discussing plans for afternoon tea. "You'll be able to breathe much better through your nose after this."

Credence's harsh groans gave way to wretched sobbing, his sight swimming as the nurse wiped his mouth with a wet washcloth. He slumped sideways in his seat, groggy from the sudden loss of blood, only to be lifted out of the chair moments later.

His mother was talking, the noise a distant murmur, droning like an insect in his mind. She didn't notice when he coughed and placed a hand over his mouth, a warm trickle of blood oozing from his nostrils as she led him out the door.

"We'll get you home," said Mary Lou, taking his hand. "Come now, boy. Don't be difficult."

Credence took three steps before sinking to the ground, his mouth opening in wordless torment. It hurt to breathe, his every breath burning against the raw edges where they'd removed his adenoids. He soon found that it was impossible to breathe through his nose, the blood clots and swelling completely blocking his nasal passages.

"Ma," he whimpered, only to receive a swat on the bum.

"Get up!" Mary Lou shouted, giving him another swat and yanking him onto his feet. The poor boy then continued to walk the rest of the way home, keeping his mouth shut for fear of retaliation from his mother.

.oOo.

Mary Lou's mother was waiting for them when they returned home, wearing an expression of greatest sympathy as she greeted them at the door.

She knelt beside him, and Credence practically fell into her arms, weeping and burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Let's get him into bed so he can rest," she said, rubbing Credence's back in an effort to calm the crying child. "After all, he's just had an operation."

Mary Lou rolled her eyes, taking a step back and allowing her mother to comfort her son. She was tired of listening to Credence whimper and moan, her ears ringing from the sound of her son's broken, hiccuping sobs.

The child was lifted off the floor and carried upstairs, his eyes closing the moment he was placed atop the mattress and covered with a blanket.

His grandmother placed a chair beside his bed, sitting beside him and covering his hand with hers. "That won't be the last time you'll visit the doctor in your life," she said gently. "With a bit of luck, they won't do you much harm." She then lifted her hand and stroked his hair, her fingers drifting downward, brushing against his cheek.

Credence blinked sleepily at her, his eyelids beginning to droop. Within minutes he had fallen asleep, wrapped in warmth and comfort now that he was finally home.


	2. Chapter 2

Exhausted from his ordeal, Credence slept through the remainder of the day, not bothering to wake when the aroma of freshly made pea soup wafted down the hall at dinner time. His mother saw this as a sign the procedure had been a success, for it had been days since Credence slept more than four hours at a time.

"I'll just save some for when he wakes up," said Mary Lou, ladling the leftover soup into a pot on the counter.

She hadn't thought to check on him while he slept, or offer him something other than pea soup during his recovery. That task was given to her mother, Jeanne Marie, who had decided to extend her stay at the Barebone residence.

When the little boy finally woke up, it was half past ten at night. Credence rolled over onto his side, mouth slightly open, wondering why his throat hurt so badly. It took a moment for him to remember what had happened, the sights and sounds of the doctor's office slowly filtering through the haze that clouded his thoughts.

The next thing he realized was that his throat was very dry. Credence tried to swallow, and felt a stabbing pain radiating from his throat clear up into the roof of his mouth.

The child whimpered and clutched his pillow, only to feel a hand on his shoulder a moment later.

"Credence?" It was his grandmother, her touch drawing his attention as he lifted his head and saw her sitting beside him. "Are you alright, Credence? You've been sleeping for quite some time now."

Credence sniffled, only to discover that his nose was still stuffy. "It hurts," he moaned, knowing that his grandmother would never punish him for being open with her. "I can't swallow, Grandma... I can't breathe..."

Jeanne moved a little closer, lifting him up and pulling him into her lap. "It's going to be alright," she soothed, hugging him gently. "I'll stay with you until you start feeling better. Heaven knows that mother of yours would never think of helping," she added in an undertone.

Credence felt the warmth of her presence, her arms around him in a loving embrace. If only his mother would hold him like that. If only she didn't think of him as something worthless, something she would rather give to her mother instead of caring for him herself.

He clung to her, desperate for love and affection, and felt his grandmother's hand under his chin, lifting his head so that she could get a better look at him.

"Poor dear," she murmured, seeing a line of blood flecked saliva caked on the side of his face. "Let's get you cleaned up, Credence. I think you'll be more comfortable once you've had a bath and changed into your nightclothes."

.oOo.

Jeanne drew up a hot bath, placing a stack of clean clothes on the counter before helping the child get undressed.

Credence tensed when his grandmother knelt down in front of him, trembling as she unbuttoned his shirt. It felt so strange having someone do this carefully, whereas Mary Lou often yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

"I'm just going to wash your back for you," said Jeanne. "I assume you're old enough to handle the rest."

"Y-yes," Credence stammered, hearing the thickness in his voice. "Grandma, why do I sound funny?"

Jeanne let out a sympathetic sigh as she retrieved a fresh bar of soap from the cabinet. "It's because of the swelling in your throat. It'll be some time before you're able to talk normally again."

She instructed Credence to sit on the stool beside the bathtub, steam coming off the surface of the water as she held a washcloth under the faucet, moistening the fabric then rubbing it with a bar of soap.

The child sighed wearily, hanging his head and allowing his grandmother to wash his back. It felt good just sitting there, listening to the water splash into the tub, his grandmother humming beside him. She had always done that when he wasn't feeling well, taking him in her arms and comforting him when he was little. He could just barely remember it, the ghost of some long forgotten memory lingering on the edge of his thoughts.

A noise halfway between a hoarse croak and a strangled whisper slid past his lips, exhaling a spiral of smoke that vanished in the blink of an eye. He could have wept from exhaustion, from the realization that he had someone there for him when he was feeling his absolute worst.

"Shh, it's alright now," he heard his grandmother say, and Credence forced himself to sit a little straighter, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

By the time she had finished, the water had cooled to the perfect temperature, the child stripping off his clothes and stepping into the bathtub as his grandmother left to change his bedsheets. He was still bewildered by how kind this woman was, but he was certainly grateful.

He reached for the towel when he had finished bathing, feeling somewhat unsteady on his feet. He had both lost, and swallowed, a fair amount of blood during the operation. And when he bent to pick up the nightshirt his grandmother left for him, he felt queasy and had to grip the edge of the bathtub to keep from stumbling.

Credence carefully made his way down the hall, walking slowly with his hand against the wall to steady his movements. His throat still ached and burned, but at least he was clean now, dressed in a faded nightshirt and a warm pair of socks.

He was halfway to his room when his grandmother came to collect him, taking him by the hand and helping him into bed.

"Do you think you can manage a little food?" she asked, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Credence appeared to wilt right before her very eyes. How was he supposed to eat anything when he could barely swallow?

"Credence," Jeanne said softly, seeing that he was uncomfortable. "We could try liquids if you think that'll be easier. Some tea perhaps, or just plain water."

"You mean something other than pea soup?" asked Credence, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. He seemed hopeful that he could finally escape his mother's never ending barrage of vegetables, but at the same time he wasn't sure he could tolerate forcing himself to eat.

"Yes, dear." Jeanne nodded. "Your mother keeps more than peas in the icebox. Not much, but enough to last until I can get to the store."

The child let his gaze drift towards the floor, curling in on himself to avoid further contact. The warmth of the bath had released much of the tension in his muscles, and right now all he wanted was to sleep.

"Don't wanna," he muttered thickly. "Hurts..."

"I know, sweetheart." Jeanne placed a hand on his back, rubbing in small circles as the child drifted off to sleep. "I know it hurts, but you'll start feeling better soon." She then leaned over and placed a kiss on the child's forehead.

She would try to get him to eat something in the morning, but for now she decided to let him rest.

.oOo.

The next morning was much the same, with Credence refusing to take even the tiniest sip of water.

Seeing that this was going to be a difficult time for both of them, Mary Lou's mother went to the bookshelf in Credence's room, looking for something that might take his mind off how miserable he was. She was surprised to see that there weren't any children's books, the shelves filled with religious literature, including a book of children's Bible stories.

"That does it!" She huffed out an irritated sigh, her eyes blazing.

Though she hated to leave her grandson in the care of her daughter, she knew that something needed to be done in order to make Credence's recovery as smooth as possible.

"Mary Lou!" she called out, pulling on her coat and as she headed downstairs. She marched up to her daughter, who recoiled at the sight of Jeanne's fury. "There isn't a single book in there that's fit for a boy his age," she said, motioning towards Credence's bedroom.

"Mother, please," began Mary Lou, clearly exasperated. "I am giving my son a spiritual education which is far more important than fairy tales and nonsense. Those stories are not the word of God, therefore they are lies, untruths meant to lead him away from the Lord. Do you want me filling my son's head with lies? Do you, mother?"

"I'd like to see you filling him full of something other than dampish bread," spat Jeanne.

"The dampish bread is the body of our Lord!" Mary Lou insisted. "As it is written, He gave them bread out of Heaven to eat."

"Man does not live on bread alone!" her mother countered. "I also remember something about casting your bread into the water for several days, which you must have taken quite literally considering the soggy bread you've left moldering on the kitchen counter."

Mary Lou's jaw dropped. She stood staring at her mother's back, utterly speechless, as the older woman stormed out the front door.

.oOo.

It was nearly noon by the time her mother returned, a shopping bag trailing from her wrist as she entered the church. She swept past her daughter, who was in the process of making pureed peas for lunch, and began unloading her groceries on the counter.

Mary Lou, who was still in a state of shock after being told off earlier in the day, looked down her nose at the assortment of food. "What's that?" she asked, adding more peas to the bowl and mashing them with a fork.

"Actual food," her mother replied. She brought out a chicken for making soup, the ingredients for frozen pudding, oatmeal, gelatin and several bottles of apple juice. "And this," she added, holding up a copy of _The Tale Of Peter Rabbit_, "is so he'll have something decent to read." She placed the book on the counter, then brought out a second book entitled _The Tale Of Benjamin Bunny._

Mary Lou had just opened her mouth to protest her mother's decision when she was pushed out of the kitchen, her mother seizing the nearest pot and setting it on the stove.

"What are you doing?!" Mary Lou screeched, outraged by this sudden takeover.

"It's called parenting," said Jeanne, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. "Though I'm sure you're unfamiliar with the concept, as are your children since you've failed to properly care for them."

"Credence is not your son! He is my responsibility, I adopted him!"

"Then try looking after him for a change. Be a mother to him, hold him once in a while. And for the love of Saint Teresa, stop feeding him peas night and day!" She then turned sharply and shooed her daughter out the door. "Go on, off with you now. Go play in your vegetable garden with those precious peas of yours."

The door slammed behind her, her daughter stumbling out into the late autumn sunlight.

Mary Lou, now thoroughly incensed after being thrown out of her own house, did in fact enter her garden to check on her plants, sipping from a bottle of pea moonshine as she went strolling through the leaves.

.oOo.

Credence was dozing in bed when his grandmother entered the room. He'd had nothing to eat since yesterday, his stomach rumbling from lack of food. And yet whenever he considered taking in some kind of nourishment, the thought made his throat constrict with pain, forcing him away from any opportunity to feed himself.

"Credence," came Jeanne's voice from the doorway. "I have something for you."

The child lowered the blankets, sitting up slowly and looking at his grandmother. She was carrying a silver tray, and when she sat down beside him on the bed, Credence could see a variety of different foods and drinks, along with a book that had been placed off to the side.

"I'm boiling a chicken so we'll have soup later," she said, watching the boy examine the assortment of foods.

"Pea soup?" Credence asked, and Jeanne shook her head.

"No, dear. You've had quite enough of that. I'm making a simple broth that should go down easily. Until then, I thought we'd try a bit of juice, maybe some water or gelatin if you're up to it."

Credence drew back, still refusing to eat. It was then that Jeanne set the tray on the nightstand, then reached over and lifted the child onto her lap.

"Alright, let's try a different approach," she said, picking up the book. "I'll read you a story, Credence, but I need you to drink some water. Can you do that for me?"

The child squirmed in her lap, turning and looking at the book in her hand. He'd never seen anything like it, the handsome rabbit leaping across the cover, dressed in a blue shirt and carrying a bunch of carrots.

He placed his hand on the cover, hardly believing what he was seeing. His eyes were wide, and when he looked at his grandmother she was smiling.

"Are you ready for a story, Credence?"

The child nodded, and Jeanne handed him the glass of water.

Credence held the glass with both hands, looking at it as though it were filled with some sort of poison. He brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip and wincing as the liquid stung the back of his throat.

The first sip went down rough, but it moistened his throat and made it easier for him to swallow. His grandmother, still holding him in her lap, then began to read, pausing now and again to encourage him to keep taking small sips of water.

By the time she had finished reading, Credence had drank the entire glass of water along with half a bowl of gelatin. The child, now sleepy from listening to the story, closed his eyes and dozed off in her arms.

This pattern continued as the days slowly passed, with Jeanne reading to Credence during mealtime. The sound of her voice, along with the love and comfort he received, helped distract him, allowing him to eat without focusing on how he felt.

Eventually Jeanne started turning on the radio, allowing him to sit in front of it and listen while he ate. This, too, served as a distraction, his grandmother beside him as they shared a meal together.

When enough time had passed, Jeanne started adding new foods to his diet. Credence was delighted by the change, eating bowls of potato soup, oatmeal and frozen pudding. He was especially pleased when his grandmother presented him with something called lemon ice about two weeks after his surgery.

Credence had never tasted anything with lemon flavoring before. He happily ate the entire bowl of lemon ice, then held it up and asked his grandmother for more.

"Look at him, Mary Lou," said Jeanne, smiling at her grandson. "See how happy he is when you feed him properly and give him some attention? Of course, if he's well enough to eat that then it means I should be going soon."

Credence nearly dropped his spoon when he heard this. "You mean you're leaving already, Grandma?"

"Not right now. I'll spend the rest of the day with you, but tomorrow morning I'll be going home. And as for you, young lady," she said, turning and glaring at Mary Lou, "I expect you to take better care of these children. Credence will let me know if he and his sister have been properly cared for. And if I hear that they've been mistreated, you'll be the one needing a visit to the doctor the next time I stop by."

Mary Lou had nothing to say in response to her mother's threats. She let her gaze drift towards the corner of the room, an ugly sneer twisting her lips as Jeanne gave her son a hug.

"Look after your sister, Credence," Jeanne said, her arms around him, holding him close. "You know you can always call me if you need anything, and grandma will come over to make things right."


End file.
